


She's never liked fireworks much

by generalwastedisposal



Series: Comfort [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Anxiety, F/F, Femslash, Panic Attacks, i cant get enough of these two, jasmine makes good hot chocolate, lin is a meddling matchmaker, pippa is a beautiful ray of sunshine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalwastedisposal/pseuds/generalwastedisposal
Summary: Pippa sighs, because while she’s openly out of the closet, Jasmine is…well, Jasmine is incredible, Pippa thinks. She’s brilliant and breathtakingly beautiful. She’s also probably straight and is so far out of Pippa’s league it’s unimaginable.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emmab711](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmab711/gifts).



> So this is technically a prequel to 'Puzzle Pieces,' but the two can be read alone no problem.

  It’s a two show day a couple of months after opening when Pippa decides she really ought to get her head out of her ass.

   Or rather, Lin decides this for her. He corners her in the stairwell during the beginning of I Know Him, a self-righteous grin plastered on his face.

   “What are the odds you ask her out today?” Pippa’s startled, but she holds it together, feigns ignorance, trying to brush past Lin to get to her dressing room, something about needing to fix her hair. Lin doesn’t budge, tells Pippa that it’s honestly getting a little ridiculous.

   “You two have been pining after each other for months. Say something. Ask her to get drinks, buy her flowers.” Pippa realizes denying her feelings has become futile, because after all, Pippa is gay, and Lin is annoyingly observant. Pippa sighs, because while she’s openly out of the closet, Jasmine is…well, Jasmine is incredible, Pippa thinks. She’s brilliant and breathtakingly beautiful. She’s also probably straight and is so far out of Pippa’s league it’s unimaginable.

   Pippa shares these last thoughts with Lin, who shakes his head, shiny black hair swinging like a curtain. “Don’t do this, Pip. Talk to her. You’ll never know until-”

   Pippa never gets to find out when she’ll know because Lin hears his cue and bolts, hard, for the stage. Pippa’s recovering from his sudden departure and is so deeply immersed in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice the approaching footsteps, and it takes a hand waved in front of her face before Pippa jumps to say hello to- _of course it is_.

   It’s Jasmine in her Maria dress, and it takes Pippa a couple of seconds to remember how to process thoughts other than “wow” when Jasmine takes the lead.

   “Are you okay? You look a little shaken up.” She’s right, Pippa is more than a little shaken up, but that’s pretty much her mode of operation at this point. Except for when she’s with Jasmine, because Jasmine has a way of leveling things out and disengaging the land mines that seem constantly ready to deploy in Pippa’s mind. Now is no different, and she takes Pippa’s hand, _she’s just being friendly this is what friends do_ , pulling her down the stairs.

   “Come on, I gotta go seduce your husband into cheating on you.” They arrive at the bottom of the stairs with a couple of minutes to spare, and Jasmine spins Pippa to face her and places her hands squarely on Pippa’s shoulders. “You’re sure you’re okay?” and she doesn’t need to be more specific because they both know what she’s talking about.

  The first time it happened it was a Thursday night, still at the Public, and Pippa had swapped her verses in Burn. Lin gently jabbed her in the wings after the show, meaning nothing by it, he’d skipped a chunk of Hurricane the week before. But Pippa, avid perfectionist as she’d been raised to be, had taken shelter in the bathroom she shared with her Schuyler Sisters. Gasping her way through a panic attack that reminded her too much of her junior year of high school, she didn’t realize she’d forgotten to lock the door until Jasmine slipped in, shushing her feeble attempts to shoo her away. Jasmine had wrapped her arms around Pippa, holding her tightly until the panic seeped away and the only remnant was tearstains on Jasmine’s hoodie.

   There’d been other times too, days where it all got to be too much and nights where the corset on Pippa’s dresses was pulled a little too tight. Jasmine always seemed to know, seeking Pippa out in whatever nook of the theatre she’d taken refuge in and rubbing her back, counting to five again and again and again until Pippa felt ready to take on the world once more.

  All this and more passed between them in an instant, Pippa building up walls because how do you explain to your best friend that maybe you’re not okay, and it’s because you’re in love with her.

   Jasmine runs onstage with an apologetic glance and a quick kiss pressed to Pippa’s cheek, leaving a warm feeling long after it should’ve faded.

   Pippa avoids her between shows, getting out of cafecito by claiming exhaustion and going to her dressing room to lie down. She’s somewhere between half asleep and mostly awake when Jasmine comes in, whispering words to her that Pippa can’t quite hear. There’s a blanket pulled over her and her shoes are taken off before Jasmine’s gone again, leaving behind the unmistakable scent of honeysuckle and hairspray that settles around her like a cloud.

   Act one of the next show is fine, it’s always fine, because Eliza and Peggy are sisters and sisters hold hands without trouble and sisters make sense and Pippa thinks it would solve a lot of her problems if Eliza and Peggy could stick around for a while.

   But all too soon, intermission comes, bringing with it a healthy dose of reality and sweeping Pippa out of the world of the play and back into her dressing room. Jasmine applies red lipstick while Pippa fidgets with the hole in one of the beanbags, and when they speak, it’s at the same time.

   Jasmine instantly forgets what she was trying to say, something dumb about shades of red, when she hears the words out of Pippa’s mouth.

   “Do you want to get drinks tonight?” She’s stunned for a moment, that Pippa-this effervescent ray of sunshine and elegance and poise, would want anything to do with her, but shakes it off as reality hits her quickly.

   “Like with the rest of the cast? Are people going?” This throws a bit of a wrench in Pippa’s plan, because she’d only prepped for yes and no, but she manages to stutter out something about no, no, just us. Jasmine cracks a smile, one that sends light dancing mischievously through her eyes, and gets ready to accept, but the words catch between her teeth as she watches Pippa fidget anxiously.

   “You don’t want to get drinks, do you?” Jasmine’s tone is gentle, teasing, and Pippa’s able to let her guard down. She admits that no, bars aren’t her favorite, and Jasmine nods because she knows this, and then offers up her place as an alternative. There’s a moment where the offer hangs between them, and then Jasmine gasps.

   “Not like-I didn’t mean-I have really good hot chocolate?” This is enough for Pippa, and she pulls Jasmine into a hug, anchoring herself against her familiar body and the comfortable way Jasmine brings her hand up to play with Pippa’s hair.

   After the show, they bundle into layers, pulling their hats down against the late November chill and stepping out of the stage door. There’s a roar, one Pippa’s not sure she’ll ever get used to, and they sign a few autographs before Pippa squeezes Jasmine’s hand twice, _I need to get out of here_. Pippa loves performing, always will, but she thinks she could do without the mobs of screaming humans. The subway ride, deserted car, helps ease her stress, and it doesn’t hurt that she and Jasmine walk hand in hand the whole way back to Jasmine’s apartment.

   Pippa’s been in Jasmine’s apartment a dozen times, but things are different tonight. They dance around each other delicately, and it’s not until they’re on the couch with the hot chocolate, (which Jasmine was right, is very good) that either of them fully let their guard down. They fall into their usual rhythm of laughs and stories, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them that tonight, touches seem a little more electric.

   By the time the hot chocolate is gone, Pippa’s practically sitting in Jasmine’s lap, fingers absentmindedly playing with her curls. In a sudden burst of confidence, Jasmine puts two fingers under Pippa’s chin and lifts it up, cocking an eyebrow to ask a question that gets a smile in response.

   The kiss tastes like hot chocolate and Pippa pulls away and laughs when she thinks about how long she’s wanted to do this. But then Jasmine’s lips are on hers again and Pippa knows that old cliché about the fireworks, but she’s never liked fireworks much. Too unpredictable.

  Kissing Jasmine is like the first night sleeping in your own bed after being away for weeks. That’s as close as Pippa can get and she still can’t really describe it because it’s so indescribably Jasmine.

   The kiss finds its natural end soon and they pull away but not too far, still nestled in each other’s arms. Pippa is silent and Jasmine thinks about offering her a penny for her thoughts, then shakes her head and smiles, because Pippa’s thoughts are some of Jasmine’s favorite and she’d be willing to pay a good deal more than a penny for them.


End file.
